Page 199 of True Blue

Teddy kisses me once more, lingering before he rasps against my mouth. “I love you, honey.”

And I let the words wrap around me like the comforting blanket they are.

Just a brief moment of comfort, but that’s all I need to get me to press my lips to Teddy’s once more, walk into Hyde, and hold my head up high as Lorraine guides me toward the elevators.

“You emancipated yourself from your parents at sixteen years old, correct?”

There’s something in Dr. Minkus’ tone that sounds wrong. Judgmental. The expensive suit, the gold watch, and the slight upturn to his nose either tell me he’s never struggled a day in his life, or he’s been bathed for so long in luxury that he’s forgotten.

I haven’t.

I will never forget what it means to be hungry.

To work toward something because it’s the only way out of poverty.

“Yes,” I say, my voice clear and as even as I can control.

“What was the reason you did so?”

I take a deep breath, Lorraine’s presence next to me feeling like my only ally in this cold conference room. I sit before three committee members at this long wooden table, all three doctors peering at me, looking for any hint of guilt.

The fluorescent overhead lighting is causing a throb behind my eyes as I try to keep my leg from bouncing. The nerves are itchy, crawling all over my body, but Lorraine told me to be calm. To keep an air of innocence because that’s exactly what I am. Innocent.

But perception is reality.

And the perception of me, when shown in a different light, gives truth to these accusations.

“My parents were alcoholics who were unconcerned with raising a daughter,” I clear my throat of the emotion threatening to shake my voice. “I decided to take that responsibility from them.”

Dr. Minkus’ lip curls, only slightly, but I see it. I’ve seen that look many times over my life, usually after people find out about my past and have already decided the kind of person I am. It’s paints a picture in their head that no matter what I say, won’t change. It’s what Dawn did. It’s what Dr. Minkus is doing right now.

“And how did you support yourself?”

“I worked while getting my GED,” I say.

His brow raises, “What types of jobs?”

“I worked at fast food restaurants. I worked for a maid service and cleaned hotel rooms. I was a janitor at a local elementary school in Indiana. When I started college, I waitressed, cleaned houses on the side, and tutored classmates. Any place that would hire me, I worked.”

Dr. Moira Vale, the head chair of the ethics committee, makes a note in the file in front of her. She has short, cropped dark hair and a stern face that immediately makes my back straighten.

Sitting next to her is Dr. Angela Halloran, an older woman with long silver hair and a soft voice. She hasn’t said much, though Dr. Minkus has been monopolizing the meeting for the last hour. But she scares me the most for some reason.

A note taker sits at the far end of the table, their fingers moving a mile a minute on the keys as they document every question asked of me, every answer I give. They’ll compare these answers to the answers I gave back at Bluewater, looking for any holes, any lies.

“So,” Dr. Minkus tuts, tapping his pen once against the folder, “you grew up with very little money.”

There it is.

It’s not a question, it’s an observation and a very fair one at that. I was broke pretty much my whole life, and I still survived.

People with Rolex watches that cost as much as my house can never conceptualize what a person will do when they’re hungry. How they will survive when they’re cold. And instead of reaching their hand out to help, they’ll look down their nose at us and sneer. Because, of course, they’re the exception—they would just pull themselves up by their bootstraps if they were in my shoes. They could lose all their money today and be rich again tomorrow.

Because they always have a safety net, a bailout, a new line of credit to use.

They don’t understand what it feels like to have no safety net.

Teddy understands now, and even that took some time.